Man Friday

Thursday night was when I met the guy I discussed on 28 May, who’s main interesting feature from the point of view of this blog is that his is in his 50s.

After the great date I had on Tuesday – which was followed up by some lovely emails where he confessed the idea of fuzunjulation had seriously crossed his mind and I replied in the positive in that regard too – I was a bit reticent about meeting Mr Thursday. But, with the help of a friend I picked the absolute perfect venue and he was there when I arrived, sitting at the bar and sipping champagne. Nice. He actually looked good; clearly takes care of himself and is very elegant. If I’m like that in 25 years (count ‘em) I will be very pleased.

Anyway we got talking and a couple of bottles of wine later he took me to a more scene venue he knew, and things began to get a bit more passionate. In fact in the cold light of day I’m a little shocked at my antics (methinks he doth protest too, much gentle reader). Anyway, by the time I’d come up for air I’d long since missed my last train so – what a pity! I’d have to go back to Mr Thursday’s place to spend the night. And so, after giving the taxi driver quite a show we arrived back at Mr Thursday’s flat.

Unfortunately, at that exact same moment so did his son.

The son, only slightly younger than me, was not best pleased to have revealed certain elements of his father’s lifestyle so publicly, and a blazing row ensued where, almost like before, I played the interlocutor and tried to patch things up between them. And that wasn't easy!

To be clear, Mr Thursday is divorced, he has two adult children, and the son is living with him while doing some post-graduate degree. They know he’s gay. But he’d never brought someone back to the flat before, so I think the issue was being confronted by it in the raw, as it were.

Certainly the son’s initial reaction was very rude and aggressive - but he did apologise to me later and I think we got on well enough (eventually) under the circumstances.

Mr Thursday and I did eventually make it to bed, and we had a lot of fun. It was slightly odd to have it interspersed with a father-son heart-to-heart but there we are. Of course, in the morning we could concentrate on each other much more…

We went out for breakfast in the morning, partly I suspect to avoid Thursday Jr., and eventually we parted ways on his commute into work with a promise to see each other again – a sincere one on my part.

His chest hair is white. It’s sooooo cute!

But enough of that for now. Because, tonight, I have a second date with Mr Tuesday, the banker. Oh joy! We’re going to the Tate Modern and later – who knows? He seems really keen; we’ve been emailing and texting several times a day and he’s already proposed a third date on Sunday. Nice, but we’ll see, shall we?

As for Saturday; that’s when I’m having a second date (dinner etc) with the guy I met last Sunday.

Wow! Mr Tuesday's the one I'm most excited about though - just don’t make me choose…!!